Recently, I had the pleasure of seeing the United Players of Vancouver’s stage version of Network. An adaptation of the 1976 film of the same name, the play was written for the stage by English writer Lee Hall in 2017 and directed for the Jericho Arts Centre by UBC’s own Kathleen Duborg.
Duborg, a UBC alum, is currently an adjunct professor of acting and directing with the Department of Theatre & Film. Having completed her BFA in acting, she returned for an MFA in directing and found the experience of expanding her focus from the specificity of a character to the broader design of a production rewarding. “It was one of the best things that ever happened to me,” she said in an interview with The Ubyssey.
Network is a parodic depiction of sensationalist corporate journalism that uses news anchor Howard Beale as a vessel. Upon his termination with Union Broadcasting Systems (UBS), Beale threatens to commit suicide on air. What proceeds is a riveting interplay of characters leveraging and trying to prevent Beale’s gradual descent into madness, cleverly underscored by commentary on corporate exploitation of public reliance on television for news. Network’s TV news companies abandon all of the core tenets of ethical journalism, valuing shock-factor over true newsworthiness to increase their viewership and feed their perpetual greed.
The cast of the film includes the likes of Faye Dunaway, Peter Finch, William Holden, Ned Beatty and Robert Duvall, all legends in their own right. The combination of the prescient script by Paddy Chayefsky and stellar performances all added to my excitement of seeing how the movie would look translated for the stage. Duborg’s direction of Network distilled the crux of the film, skillfully creating an intimate, ensemble-driven staging that prioritized acting and emotional truth over elaborate scenery.
Hall’s theatrical version of Network first appeared at London's National Theatre and later moved to Broadway in New York City. Under the direction of Ivo van Hove, the performances featured a live onstage news studio with a large screen projecting live camerawork and a restaurant where audiences could dine as they watched.
The Jericho Arts Center had to adapt that vision to fit a constraining budget and spatial capacity. For example, the multiple cameras and huge screens of the London and Broadway versions were swapped out for two cameras on either side of the stage and a $40 vintage television bought from Facebook Marketplace, a particularly integral part of the production. “You would not believe how freaking reliant we are on that TV,” said Duborg.
Once the lights had dimmed, the stage came alive. Footsteps drummed as I began counting the people on stage — studio technicians, makeup artists, a camera operator and floor manager, all in ‘70s attire. The majority of the cast took on double or triple roles, so this entrance functioned as an introduction to more than half of the major players. Then David Marr, playing Beale, entered. After receiving the countdown and being handed the headlines, Marr began with the news of the day.
The two cameras flanking Marr were, at this point, more for world-building than functionality — the screen projected the news Marr was reading instead of the footage from the cameras. I did wish there were more instances of live-footage on the screen, to be more conducive to building the world of broadcast news.
After Beale’s first broadcast ended, two bar stools and a tall table were illuminated at stage right. Here we met Max Schumacher, Beale’s best friend, who delivers, over drinks, the news of Beale being fired — the first domino in the newscaster’s decline. Schumacher’s drunken conversation immediately struck me; he was a natural. Tom McBeath, who played Schumacher, moved across the stage with ease. However subtle his decisions, they were perfect — his delivery made the dialogue feel like a conversation, so much so that I forgot the invisible line between the stage and the seat I was in. It was a masterclass in great acting.
Taking on an ambitious project like Network, especially given its predecessors at large venues, demanded ingenuity. United Players’ Artistic Director Sarah Rodgers brought the play to Duborg. “I watched the film again,” Duborg said, “and then I started dreaming.” Working within limitations, she said, strengthens problem-solving skills and levels up the creative process.
What is more challenging in a live production than timing things perfectly? Network features numerous quick transitions — 37, to be precise. “If [the transitions are not effective], it's going to be death by transitions. We're not quite there yet, to be honest, but oh my goodness, we're close.”
The play’s transitions relied on the movement of equipment and set pieces, but were augmented by lighting to reduce chaos. The spotlight shifted the attention while the set either remained undisturbed or was quickly rolled to its next position. The production embraced the energetic flow of its staging, using a few key set pieces in depicting the narrative. The barstool and table where Schumacher broke the bad news of Beale’s dismissal, for example, were repurposed for Diana Christensen and Schumacher’s first ‘date.’
Alison Wandzura’s Diana was tall, chic and resolute, much like Faye Dunaway’s portrayal in the film. Her physicality was pronounced, expressing ambition, frustration and persuasiveness with hand gestures and emphatic nods. Unlike Dunaway’s coiled intensity, however, Wandzura’s emotions were more immediate, and though I appreciated her embodiment, I found myself unfairly wishing for more restraint. Christensen’s physicality is something I imagined as driven by her emotional barrenness. Wandzura’s physicality made her less mysterious, but that mystery was a key part of Dunaway’s portrayal. The absence of this veil made Wandzura’s interpretation less enticing.
Christensen drives much of Beale’s downfall, greenlighting decisions that exploit him and publicize his breakdown. In dealing with Beale’s eventual compromising effect on the corporations that fund UBS, Christensen becomes buried in handling the destruction Beale leaves in his wake, ultimately neglecting Schumacher in the process. Their argument was wonderfully blocked; again, I was blown away by McBeath.
McBeath knew how to navigate every conversation with seasoned grace and comfort. The nuances of knowing when to let his voice crack in heartbreak, when to laugh or scoff in disbelief, when to press on or retreat in anger made him a joy to watch. I watched McBeath nervously toy with his glasses, waiting for Wandzura to put down the phone so he could inform her of how this negligence was affecting him. It was an unexpectedly tender exchange that flipped the stereotypical narrative on its head; an older man, having an affair with a much younger career-driven woman, asking for the safety of reassurance. Christensen then admitted to not having the capacity to love another, and though I have expressed my love for McBeath’s performance, Wandzura’s decisions here merit the praise she has received.
While I have focused primarily on a few key performances thus far, all players in the ensemble seamlessly flooded the stage with energy. One example is Eric Epstein, who played both Ed Ruddy and the ‘Warm-Up Guy.’ Rousing the crowd in preparation for Beale’s appearance in his revamped show as a mad preacher, Epstein donned a long silver wig under a cap and an affectation that quite reminded me of our very own Human Serviette, Narduwar. As Ruddy, the chairman of the board of UBS, Epstein appeared instead as a reinforcer of hierarchy.
Louise Schumacher, played by Mathilde Shisko, portrayed Beale’s heartbroken wife with conviction. She experienced her husband’s infidelity with restrained sorrow — less explosive than Beatrice Straight’s performance in the film, but with clear anger and sadness. Though the hindered eruptiveness still adeptly expressed her anguish, I cannot help but imagine how much more moving it would have been to see Shisko completely break down. Hackett, played by Gordon Law, contrasted Shisko’s choice — he was less repressed than his film counterpart, Robert Duvall. His voice was loud, more arrogant than commanding. He embodied the dichotomy of a man high in the corporate hierarchy yet still incapable of performing simple tasks like picking up the telephone.
Putting all these pieces together in rehearsal, Duborg said, is where the magic happens. “[It] drives me freaking crazy. Anything can happen. What's the intent? Why are we experimenting with this play? What is it going to say to this audience right now?” It was during rehearsal that a specific choice, which I found striking, first appeared.
Duborg cast Kyle Mitchell Swanson as Arthur Jensen. Jensen is much younger than Ned Beatty, who played Swanson in the film. This choice allowed Duborg to realize her vision of the character for contemporary audiences. Swanson appeared barefoot in a black turtleneck and black pants carrying a Rubik’s Cube and a lollipop — a late addition to the character. “He came in with a lollipop in his mouth the other day, and I went, ‘Oh my God. I love that,’” said Duborg.
Though Jensen’s appearance was brief, Swanson leaned into a phantom presence, contrasting Beatty’s prophetic apoplexy. I found this characterization gleefully intriguing, an example of an inhibited performance elevating its portrayal. The corporate psychopath reimagined as a pseudo-spiritual product of what I imagined as a detached child prodigy made for a modernized, far more frightening interpretation.
Network is mainly read as a remark on corporate consumerism and outrage journalism, but Duborg said the most significant conversation the play should spark is about human connection and how often people subconsciously isolate themselves. She became emotional discussing the theme, pointing to “the humanity that is being lost for generations in acts of power and carnage … It's so horrible,” she said. “I'm so sad for the world right now.”
The satire remains relevant in the current landscape due to the multitudes of meaning it can take on. Its malleability allows for reinterpretation within changing contexts, making it an evergreen film. At first, it seemed hyperbolic and borderline unrealistic watching Beale unravel. But was it, really?
